Anything for the Craft? Don't Let This Happen to You!

Only me....

My daughter and I signed on for a crop at a local store and had anxiously awaited the event for weeks. We went in at 10 and wrapped up at about 11:30 p.m. I was so excited! I'd just won a doorprize and "top page" for the day (my first wins!), and I'd gotten some awesome new product. So at 11:30 p.m. I walk out the door...it was kind of dark out there, and when I stepped off the curb to put my supplies in the trunk of my car.......let's say I was biting pavement a second later.

There I was, at 11:30 p.m. face down and twisted in the middle of the road. Everything hurt - including my pride. I keep imagining that my feet kept walking as I went down, trying to do a quick save like Wylie Coyote in a Roadrunner Cartoon.

So I scream for my daughter, who comes flying out of the store like a bat out of hell (without Meatloaf), followed by the store staff (who were wonderful, I might add). As much pain as I was in, as much humilation as I felt laying in the middle of the street at almost midnight with a mouthful of gravel, the first words out of my mouth were:

My Stuff! My layouts! Save my stuff first!

That's right, gang. My first thoughts were not for my health, broken bones, or the pain that was throbbing in my head, arm and back, but for the layouts it took me all day to produce and the great paper and stash I'd bought for the occasion. Am I addicted or what?

The staff from the store were awesome. Let's say I'm not a tiny little girl to scrape up from the pavement, but they did, and they were so gentle and helpful! No one laughed once....at least not while I was still within earshot!

I'm stiff and sore today, two days later, with a nasty headache, some black and blue marks and all the other markings of a really bad fall. I will probably need to see a doctor. But right now, all I can think of is the next crop, as I sit and carefully wipe the gravel, debris and soda from the plastic bags holding my precious papers, cardstock, and glimmermist......

Making Up The Rules As You Go Along...

I work with a woman who scraps in a way I just can't imagine. She is methodical and thoughtful and organized. What's with that?

To her credit, this woman went into scrapping on a budget. She was clear-cut that her hobby would not become a burden on her time or the family budget. These concepts are foreign to me, but I'm thinking I probably need to adopt them - at least to some degree.

When she decides to scrapbook, she picks out her photos and any mementos she'll be including in layout, and then she goes to the craft store, browses, and then (get this!) only purchase those few items she will use in those specific layouts. She doesn't need cubes and boxes and organizers for all of her supplies (like I do) or a whole end of her bedroom for her work space (like I do). She is targeted, organized and specific in her craft. Each and every layout she does is meaningful - she treats this as an art form. And her layouts are amazing.

I doubt that she belongs to any sites (like I do) or kit clubs (like I do). She doesn't scrap just for the fun of it and I don't believe she enters competitions (like I do).

So, what's the point of this segment? We scrappers come in all shapes, sizes and kinds. In the various sites I've visited, I've seen people who would, and do, make layouts of everything that is and isn't nailed down - I don't have time for this myself, but for those who do, I say go for it! Some of us are content to stick with the basics and not try new layouts or materials. That's okay too. Some of us only scrap the important parts of our lives, others have never seen a photo or a travel brochure or a moment they won't commit to paper. That's alright too.

The bottom line is, scrapbooking is the universal hobby, the one that all of us can do, and the one "sport" where we can all participate and we all belong. No matter what or how you choose to scrap, it's okay. This is the one place where you get to make up your own rules!

I Am Blairstreetgirl and I Am A Scrapaholic....

Ask a man if his wife scrapbooks. Most likely if he's going to answer in the affirmative, the word "addict" will be somewhere in his response.

So, why is this hobby of ours so addictive? I have a few thoughts on why I can't go a day without engaging in some scrappin activity.

My first project was a recipe book for my daughter's bridal shower. I asked people at work to contribute a favorite recipe, along with some thoughts and well-wishes, to be included in a recipe book of easy, home-made favorites. It was in this frame of mind that I visited my first (and probably still my favorite) scrapbook store. I've always had an artistic side, and I think that, at least initially, scrapbooking provided me an outlet for that talent. It also constituted a series of short projects where I could get immediate gratification (patience is not always one of my strong suits). Some people will scrapbook anything and everything - they are creative outlet junkies. I've seen some amazing layouts dedicated to things I would never think to scrapbook (I recently scrapbooked my own anger after seeing another layout dealing with a similar issue).

Scrapbooking also allows me to take care of my "shopping addiction." Let's face it, there is always some cute bling, or a different pattern of paper out there. And, at under $1.00 a page or just a couple of bucks for some embellies, it seems cheap (until you go to the checkout!).

Like getting packages in the mail? There have to be a gazillion kit clubs and other sites out there that can keep your postman in a job for the next 20 years.

But most of all, I think I'm addicted to the memories scrapbooking invokes. Old pictures or old documents lead you to memories and thoughts long abandoned. Your children, now adults and about to be married, once slept in your much younger arms. Remembering the first time you made a recipe - did you burn it? Forget your husband was allergic to one of the ingredients?

Scrapbooking is a way to put the movies we store in our minds on replay. It's a way to preserve a life or a love long past. It's a legacy to your children and your grandchildren.

It's true; I have more scrapbook paper, books, embellishments and equipment than I'll ever use. But someday when my time is over, my daughter and my granddaughter will take all my supplies and use them to record their own memories - some with me in them and some I'll never know.

It's not the worst thing I could be addicted to, I guess! So I will proudly proclaim myself a scrapaholic. I could start a 12-step program or a support group for my problem, but I have a feeling we'd all just wind up at A.C. Moore, baskets hanging off our arms, drooling over the embellishments and fighting over the last piece of Cosmo Cricket paper, debit cards in hand...

Counting Your Blessings

Happy Easter to all!

I went out to our dining room this morning and took a look at the baskets my husband (yes, my husband!) had lovingly put together over the past week. After being overwhelmed by the massive amount of candy on the table, I noticed something even better: in each of our children's baskets, my husband had placed a photo from an Easter in their childhood. Talk about a tear-jerker! There was my now 27-year-old son, with his curly blonde hair at 7 months old, in a little white easter coat and sailor suit. My 28-year-old daughter, now the mother of my three beautiful granddaughters, at 8 weeks old, was laying peacefully in the arms of the Easter bunny. What treasures these pictures are and what an "Easter" gift they make to our kids!

These pictures remind me of why, at 27 and 28, my kids and their mates still get Easter baskets from us, and why, no matter how old they get, my grandchildren will too:

It's not the candy, it's the memories!

One of the greatest blessing parents have is that their children will always be kids to them-no matter how many kids or grandkids they may eventually have! So I refuse to hear the people who tell me, "What - you still make Easter Baskets for your kids? They're adults!" My answer from here on in will be "and you don't?"

Our kids grow up way too fast - especially in today's world. Let's treasure them and their place in our world as our children as long as we can.

Happy Easter All!

Your Personal Style

Whenever I go through galleries at the various scrapbooking websites, I am alway impressed by the each scrapbooker's individual style. Stay with a site for awhile and eventually you can tell who produced a page just by the look of it.

My daughter does bright, colorful pages that highlight the kids and their antics of the day in question. She's done pouting, playing, temper tantrums, stubbornness and sneakiness. Her pages have a personality all their own, and I love and admire her work. My pages, on the other hand, are more classic and refined. Generally, unless I am experimenting with something new, you'll know my pages by careful photo placement, clean lines and a sense of order and refinement. I love what I do, but it is very different than my daughter's style.

Sometimes, however, a certain event or emotion can throw any of us into different look all together.

During this past week, we had an incident on the elevator in our building where someone decided it might be cute to leave something pretty nasty hanging from the elevator ceiling. I was so angry, I called building maintenance and then my landlord. They matched my anger and disgust ounce for ounce with apathy and disinterest. I typed up some fairly scathing letters to the offending parties and posted them in both elevators and on the door to the lobby. That being done, I began to feel better and decided to take a picture of the letters and put together a layout "commemorating" the incident. My mood showed in my work and this was not my typical "classic" layout. I used black card stock with ripped pieces of bright red and yellow paper as accents. The layout LOOKED as angry as I felt, and by the time I was finished I was smiling. The layout certainly wouldn't fit into one of my usual scrapbooks, but it sparked a sense of creativity that deserves a "creative efforts" album.

You never know when a scrapbooking opportunity will present itself. Stay open and don't be limited by the same old style. Sometimes it's good to just go with your emotions and see where they take you. If nothing else, you may have a good laugh and get a little inspiration for future layouts. I'm betting no one looking at my "elevator" layout would have pegged it as mine and that was half the fun of it!

Catharsis

I belong to a scrap sight, tallyscrapper.com, and I receive an incredible amount of inspiration from both the art and the people who post there.

This morning, I saw a beautiful post from a young woman who, like me, seems to have found some healing in her scrapping.

I think it's amazing where scrapbooking can take us. Sometimes we smile as we position our pictures or add just the right embellishments to capture the moments of a child's first smile, first step or first temper tantrum. Other times we cry as we journal the life and times of a loved one or share an experience that may have been painful. In some cases, we can work through our anger to a point of laughter because the situation or event we are scrapping was so absurd.

People who don't scrapbook probably don't understand all of this. We have taken the events of our lives and done more than record them in a daily diary. In our own way, like Van Gogh and Beethoven, we have take the joy, laughter and pain of our lives and turned them into a lasting testiment of strength and endurance, and art.

If we talk about these things, we get some relief. If we scrapbook them, we work through them. And in the end, we are better for the experience.

Keep on scrappin'!

If I Talk About Them They Will Live Forever

What is it about scrapping that allows us to get so involved and leaves us feeling so relaxed?

I think it's a form of catharsis.

I do all the usual scrapbooking projects - cute layouts of my grandkids, my family, the hawk that lands in the tree just off my balcony. But my one constant - the project I keep coming back to - is preserving the memories of my family.

I started this project several years ago when a beloved Aunt died and I had to part with the family home. The paperwork for the house was a mess - wills had not been probated as relatives passed on for 50 years. In the end there were 4 of us who "owned" a piece of the house -me, my father, a cousin and my aunt. And in the end, we all signed over our shares to ensure good care for my aging aunt - a decision I would not change, but which haunts me to this day. That house was as much a part of me as an arm or a leg, and in many ways, I needed it as much. It was the first home I'd ever known; it was where we lived when my father transferred to Japan in the 60's. My mother was born in that house, and it where I took my daughter during our evacuation during the Three Mile Island nuclear accident. It is the place I always felt safest and the most at peace. It was my home.

I put it off as long as possible, but eventually it came time to clear out the house as the final sale approached. It was an old house, and we found treasure upon treasure hidden in the attic rafters - portraits of relatives long gone, beautiful glassware, my grandmother's everyday dishes, an old victrola stand. On the surface, these would be all that was left of my time in the house and my ancestors. My home and my family were all gone. When I die, I would think, all reference and stories of them would go with me. Or would they?

I began to photograph everything. I started journaling. Eventually I committed long stories of my family, their history, my childhood, to paper for inclusion in my scrapbook. The scrapbooking was hard, but the writing was harder. I often cried. Each page forced me to deal with my loss. Now, as new pages are completed and stored in their plastic page protectors, I smile and remember. These wonderful people, the neighborhood I grew up in, my family, will all live on. I am cleansed of my grief and have ensured a piece of immortality for those gone before me. My children will know of their ancestors, as will my grandchildren and their children after that.

If I speak of them, they will live forever in the eyes and memories of all who look at this book. I am at peace.